


The Things I Would Do To You

by nobetterlove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Just Sex, Killer Will Graham, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rimming, Smut, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: After the fall, Will and Hannibal settle into a cozy life in Argentina, where they have a yearly Valentine's Day tradition. They start the day with a kill, then later eat the heart of their latest victim. The third year promises to be the best, but Hannibal is distracted by the roll of Will's hips and a little blood splatter. Porny things ensue.Or - the one where Hannibal can't stop watching and loses control because of it.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 95





	The Things I Would Do To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey chums! This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day piece, but The Great Texas Blizzard of 2021 decided to wayside those plans. Until moving locations, we were out of power, heat, and water for almost 24 hours. Thanks, winter! 
> 
> In the process of planning this fic out, I listened to Far's version of Pony (which has a crazy synth beat and would be perfect for stripping) - a vision of Will dancing to the beat and Hannibal watching until control wasn't a thing anymore came to mind; and the rest of the fic just sort of followed from there. 
> 
> Here's hoping you guys enjoy!

Rare moments, when Hannibal let himself fall too heavily into big emotions, the expanse of progression and growth three years could make struck him hard and fast. At one point in time, three years were spent within the confines of a prison he willingly put himself in. The days were agonizing and the moments that weren’t filled with thoughts of Will were put towards planning his escape. As luck would have it, a partner in crime came onto the scene at just the right time. 

After pitching them off the cliff, Will kept Hannibal alive after they both broke the surface of the water, gasping for air. Though they both poured blood from extensive wounds, Will kept pressure on Hannibal’s stomach, almost desperate in his attempt to keep him from falling apart. Chiyoh, in her ceaseless obsession and impeccable planning, found them on the shore and got them onto a small boat in the nick of time. The plethora of physical evidence they left there in the way of blood and sweat and tears would keep the FBI busy. It bought them several hours’ worth of a head start, anyway. 

The initial healing period was hard for them both – Chiyoh was no nonsense and did the bare minimum to keep them alive and on the right path to convalescing. She took greater care with Hannibal, but only just. In the early days on the ship, neither man was cognizant enough to really pay much mind, anyway. Hannibal fought off the heaviness of sleep at the beginning of the fifth day, watching with unease as Will slept on fitfully. It wasn’t until day ten that Hannibal could shift and clench his core without wanting to cry out sharply. By then, an infection set into the wound on Will’s face – his many hours of sleep making sense all of a sudden. 

Against his own better judgement, Hannibal took over Will’s care, doing as much as he could from his spot on the bed next to Will – thankfully, the first couple of days were antibiotic heavy. In between bouts of changing his IV and rewrapping wound dressings, Hannibal passed out into an uneasy sleep, Will’s condition and the aimlessness of being confined to such a small space working against him – making him feel distraught. 

By the third week, Will’s skin started to look healthy again, the harsh red of inflammation slowly retreating. He was through the complete course of antibiotics and restlessly starting to move, when before, there were small twitches here and there, but nothing else. When he eventually blinked awake, Hannibal forgot himself and wrapped Will tightly to his chest. There wasn’t any fuss to pull away, just a sleepy Will leaning fully into him in confusion and a severe sense of overwhelm. 

“I guess we made it,” Will muttered, his voice crackly from a dry throat and many, many days of disuse. His skin was sweaty, the curls surrounding his face long – but in that moment, Hannibal couldn’t recall him looking more beautiful. Blue eyes were clear, a surprising lack of anger and dissatisfaction sending a bunch of mixed signals. Did he intend to forgive Hannibal – after all this time? And when all was said and done, did Hannibal forgive Will?

“We did – you were conscious just long enough to pull us both out of the water. Chiyoh said she found us on the edge of the shore. We have been sailing for three weeks and have one more to go if the weather stays good to us.” Though Hannibal let go of Will from his full body hug, he kept Will’s hand gripped tightly in both of his. “How are you feeling?” 

Will’s fingers twitched in Hannibal’s hold, not to get away, but to span more surface area of skin touching. In a lot of ways, it felt past the point of holding back or trying to fight the inevitable. Hannibal made choices that severely changed the progression of things with Will – what should have been long ago was finally coming to be. He hoped so, anyway. 

“I let the water be our judge. When we both broke the surface of the water, alive and well – it felt like a turning point.” A grimace crossed his pale face as he tried to rearrange himself, Will’s brow all the sudden covered in sweat. “I feel weak, and tired – but good, too. I’m glad this is what happened.” Will attempted a smile, the wound on his cheek only allowing for the slightest quirk. 

“I am, too. Especially now that you are awake and looking at me. There were a few days that seemed touch and go. It is nice to see the clarity of your eyes again.” Returning the grin with a smile of his own, Hannibal let go of Will’s hand, using it to cup his uninjured cheek. “There is a lot of life left to lead on this new path. Shall we take it together?” 

Leaning weakly into the touch, Will nodded in response, his eyes closing in acceptance and fatigue. Will nuzzled Hannibal’s palm, the stubble there long enough to be soft against his skin. When he spoke, the word was soft and muddled, subconsciously uttered – “together.” There was an obscenity to it, the innocence of the utterance and the heat it cut across Hannibal’s skin. 

After Will fell back asleep a few minutes later, Hannibal kept the grip on the man’s hand, his position only shifting when the tightness of his stomach couldn’t be ignored. 

For the remaining time on the boat, Hannibal and Will worked through physical therapy and activities of daily life to regain some strength and mobility. Having the ability to at least walk when they got to Argentina would be a great help. And while they struggled, their wounds ones that did not play well with age and limited medical care, the time together was peaceful, good for the emotional healing, too. 

When they got close to the house a week later, Hannibal helped Will up to the deck, the two of them leaning gingerly against the hull of the boat. The last house they passed was many miles in the opposite direction, the only thing that surrounded them was open water and dense brush by the shoreline. Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders to bring him close to his chest, his free hand pointing just off into the distance. They were breaking through the fog of dense air sitting over top of the water, the house more visible with each passing second. 

“When we first met, I bought this house with you in mind. On a complete whim, which is very much unlike me. I made a visit to Buenos Aires over the summer and found the quaintness of the outer city to be beautiful.” His fingers tightened, Will shifting further to press more firmly into Hannibal’s chest. “Out of all of my properties, I am most happy to be sharing this one with you.” 

Will hummed in reply, the relaxation in his posture answer enough. The will to fight the inevitable was gone from them both, replaced with a happiness of finally giving in. Hannibal felt that from Will in the way he let himself be held, the way in which he leaned back and let Hannibal have him close. “The fishing is probably amazing around here.” 

Things were peaceful as the house rolled in, the two of them wrapped up in each other until Chiyoh made an appearance, expectation in her eyes. It would take all three sets of hands to get the boat docked and secure. Transitioning their life from the galley of the boat to a spacious house with a beautiful dock, a pool and hot tub, and a huge garage fitted with cardio equipment and weights for all occasions felt like a dream – a new appreciation for life’s finer things apparent in them both with a shared look. 

Hannibal let Will explore further into the house, a feeling of pride surging through him with every big blue-eyed look of excitement. The living room and study were tastefully decorated, the furniture and art preserved by white sheets they pulled down as they went from room to room. True Hannibal style, the kitchen stood out in vast comparison to the rest of the place. It wasn’t as fancy as the place in Baltimore – but it would suit them well. 

The slump of a tired Will against him had Hannibal leading them to the stairs. They stopped a couple times along the way to lean against each other, Will still not completely back to one hundred percent physically, yet. It took a lot out of them both to get the boat set up and the little bits of life they accumulated over a month at sea into the house. Out of breath by the time they made it to the master, Hannibal deposited Will on the right side of a luxurious king-sized bed. 

He left Will to get himself undressed and under the covers, the bathroom calling his name; weeks without hot water made him desperate for a shower. By the time he stood under the water aimlessly for some minutes and got himself dried and ready to crash, Will was already cocooned under the blankets, his unruly curls the only thing peeking out. His body was at the middle of the mattress, the invitation clear. With a smile, Hannibal climbed into the bed, wrapped himself around Will, and dove into the comfort of a safe sleep.

Three years later, Hannibal woke up with the tufts of Will’s hair in his face on a daily basis. Now completely under the influence of Hannibal’s finer tastes, the long locks smelt divine and were even softer still. On the nights where they made love into the long hours of the night, they were sometimes muggy from their shower just a couple hours before waking up. In a life where Hannibal spent so much time on his own, he couldn’t remember what it was like to blink awake without Will next to him. 

A melodious voice broke through his reverie, the pitch of Will’s words sound like maybe he tried to call Hannibal a time or two before. “Hey, you alright over there?” Will asked, a blood coated hand gripping his shoulder through the stiff plastic of his suit. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Hannibal oriented himself back to the present, the wandering of his mind something he didn’t indulge in often. It must be the occasion, he reasoned – looking around the small basement kill room they developed and outfitted together over the last couple of years. It was Valentine’s Day and per their tradition, a fresh kill was splayed out on the stainless-steel table – the heart for the night’s meal already wrapped up and in the storage fridge for preparation later. 

It must’ve been the way the stale light of the bulb right above them played off the smooth surface of Will’s blue eyes, or possibly the vividly genuine smile that encompassed the perfectly stubbled face. Hannibal looked and got lost in the haze of many minutes over the years spent this exact same way – elbow deep in blood of a perpetrator they found together, killed together, and eventually consumed together, too. The ethereal beauty of Will truly giving himself to his true self was extensive, almost too much every time Hannibal encountered it. When Will finally chose to let go, he did so in a way that bloomed a whole new person – one that smiled and laughed, that flashed deadly looks and cold as ice judgements. 

Hannibal loved him before; when the shadow of people and their expectations weighed Will so heavily down. It was hard not to, with a brain so unique and a personality, that under a little pressure and with a little push, could bring people to their knees; Hannibal included. The blossoming of Will under the right care and guidance played a huge part in the love evolved, but the man himself – the happiness he portrayed with abandon, that truly sealed the deal. Despite the messiness of their past, Will loved him hard; the act of it covetous and selfless, like worship and gluttony all in one. 

Before his silence worried Will any further, Hannibal pulled himself together – a relaxed smirk falling across his lips. “Of course. Simply enjoying myself. Cataloguing the way your smile looks when you truly enjoy yourself, too,” Hannibal answered easily, a delve into his mind palace not ridiculously far from the path of truth. So many of his memories were vivid and active, the need to shape his rooms so meticulously wasn’t needed – not when reality and the history of it was so rich with feeling, so real in his enjoyment. 

Will looked at him curiously, but thought better than to question, the pinch of his eyebrow enough to clue Hannibal in, anyway. His eyes were bright, filled to the brim with mirth and curiousness. “You utter sap. Waxing poetic over bloody remains – how did I get so lucky?” His face was relaxed with amusement, everything about him radiating, despite (or maybe because of) the blood and sweat that coated his skin. 

They shared a look, some sort of understanding happening between them. In the same way Hannibal accepted Will’s ability to not only read the room, but Hannibal himself – Will appreciated Hannibal’s meticulous and sometimes overbearing tendencies. The simple fact that they not only killed together, but made an art of it, spoke of their true understanding of one another. When Hannibal cut himself away from the world, Will let him.

“I’m going to leave you to the cleanup. You’ll just mop up after me if I help, anyway. The shower is calling my name. Feel free to join me,” Will announced, his pitch dropping a little with those last few words. He kept his eyes on Hannibal for another moment, then shook his head affectionately and made for the stairs. 

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Hannibal set about cleaning up after them. In a lot of ways, killing with Will fulfilled so many of his needs. Finding a human connection on such a base level moved something within him – pulling feelings from a place that shouldn’t exist in a person like him. It felt like companionship and understanding – like being seen from a cellular level. Where fulfillment before was about domination and rendering art, now Hannibal took his daily bread in the form of Will’s smiles and a shared connection that no one could touch, let alone name. 

The one place Hannibal liked solitude was in the clean-up. Many years of keeping himself out of anyone’s grasp drilled home the point of leaving absolutely nothing behind. Will’s background gave him an appreciation for the trace elements that caught so many careless before, but Hannibal truly embodied the concept. He did things a certain way and after many, many, many nit-picky fights, Will conceded and left Hannibal to his own devices. 

On any other day, Hannibal would’ve enjoyed the quiet of breaking down and disposal, the process as much a routine as showering and brushing his teeth. Yet, he found himself drawn to the man upstairs, an enticing bump of bass about ten minutes after Will walked upstairs piquing his interest. Making the decision to follow his mind’s true focus, Hannibal got the body into their deep freeze unit and left the rest for later. His murder suit joined Will’s on the floor, the heap of bloody plastic almost like art in its own way. 

Hannibal took the stairs up to the kitchen two by two, spurred on by the rare music outside of his classical collection. Usually, Will kept his upbeat and pop-y music to the gym, or the fancy headphones that made the two of them giving each other space more than easy. With all of the adrenaline still pumping through his own veins, he couldn’t fault his lover for being pumped up and looking for a tangible way to express it. 

Will’s music took on a hypnotic quality, pulling Hannibal up to the master bedroom like a fishing line baited just for him. A synthetic beat carried the undertone of the song, the rhythm one Hannibal could admit to enjoying while exercising, himself. The bedroom and bathroom door were open, the whole indulgent wall of mirror Hannibal preferred reflecting back the most beautiful picture. 

With the beat, Will’s hips worked; circles and figure eights. The moves were subconscious, the man probably not even aware of them. His clothes were in piles over the counter and floor, one of their biohazard bags open and ready for the haul. Will himself was shirtless, dark blue boxer briefs the only thing covering his lower half. His skin was clear apart from the places the plastic suit did not cover, Will’s neck and face covered in measured droplets of blood from one side to the other. Harvesting organs was messy business, no matter how precise a person was. The clear pools of blue were covered, his eyes closed, the relaxed look of letting the beat take over apparent. 

Though his hands ached to touch, Hannibal kept his position leaning against the bedroom doorway. Maroon eyes were glued to Will as he shed his boxer briefs, selfishly flitting between every single inch of bare skin revealed to the air. There were scars and healed wounds all over his body – his shoulder and lower stomach taking a brunt of the damage. In the face of his marks covering Will’s skin, Hannibal craved all that it meant. Shared history and a place in time where they belonged together – where in a moment of weakness, he could lean casually and wordlessly devour the very sin of a thing he couldn’t live without. 

Lewd lyrics of the song were secondary, the vulgarity of them adding to the moment, no matter how base they truly were. Every part of the music emphasized the subtle movement of the long lines of Will’s body. Hannibal wasn’t surprised that Will knew he was there, the empath more than clued in on all things Hannibal Lecter and his actions than either cared to admit. In the delicacy that it was, Hannibal didn’t mind getting caught out in his indulgence. 

They shared a long look, the haze of black in Will’s eyes like a strike of lightning in his veins. Hannibal wasn’t sure how he got on the tiles of the bathroom the way he did, but his knees hit them hard and he grasped onto Will’s hips, maroon eyes looking up at Will with devotion, ready to pay his penance.

Will’s hardening cock pressed against Hannibal’s chin, the first traces of stickiness at the head smearing along his skin. Hannibal shifted a hand to grip the base of his impressive length, using the leverage to guide Will’s tip to his mouth. He took in a long breath, letting the scent of his lover wet his palette. Without much warning, Hannibal dove in, letting the head and most of Will’s length slide effortlessly into his mouth. He peered up, taking the look of Will’s surprise in, and hoarding it for later. 

“Hannibal, fuck,” Will muttered, both hands sliding into the longer hair at the sides of Hannibal’s hair. His nails dug in, the scratch pulling Hannibal down Will’s length a little further. So far that the tip of Will’s cock hit the back of Hannibal’s throat – the breathlessness that came from chocking on it adding to the arousal of the situation. Snorting a breath through his nose, Hannibal gripped Will’s hips tightly, taking in every sensation possible. 

Pulling back up the solid girth, Hannibal teased the head with broad licks and pointed circles, the tip of his tongue sliding along the slit at every opportunity. With every slide down, Hannibal let Will’s cock rest there, his throat clenching and relaxing around the length. When the need to breath won out, he drew back, painting Will’s frenulum and mushroom head with slippery wet affection. 

All around him, stimulus went off like exploding fireworks. Will’s hands clenched tightly along Hannibal’s scalp, his mouth was open – releasing glorious sounds that sounded like Hannibal’s name and colorful curse words. Even the hard press of the tile beneath his knees added to the cacophony of goodness – every sensation worked in tandem to keep him there, in the glorious moment. 

Impatiently, Will tried to thrust his hips, the abandon in his voice and limbs escalating with every suck of Hannibal’s mouth. Without much effort, Hannibal gripped Will’s hips tighter, his teeth sliding along sensitive flesh in a tangible warning. “You bastard,” Will grumbled, flexing the muscles in his stomach in hopes of enticement. 

Unable to grin, Hannibal moaned around Will’s length, the vibration and guttural sound making the man attempt a thrust of his hips again – the spongy tip of his cock rubbing harshly against Hannibal’s throat. He snorted out a breath through his nose, the deprivation spinning his head in a delirious way. Up and down, tongue swirling and licking, Hannibal feasted upon Will in a blissed-out haze. 

When it became too much, whatever too much pleasure actually meant, Hannibal pulled off abruptly, the momentum of his out of nowhere move getting him up and off his knees. Level with Will now, Hannibal cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a harsh kiss. His thrust his tongue in Will’s mouth without waiting for permission, the salty tang of pre-cum and excitement shared between their mouths in Hannibal’s exploration. One restless hand resumed the up and down pace on Will’s cock, while the other reached around, the tip of his first finger dragging between cheeks. The bounce back of the muscle was intoxicating, his own cock throbbing at the resistance. 

Will’s breath started to huff against his lips, their kisses narrowed down to open mouths and curious swipes of eagerly seeking tongues. The more Hannibal worked him with his hand, the further from coordinated Will became. There was a second, where Hannibal pulled his lips away and looked Will in the eye, that they both thought he might let Will cum. Then, he released Will completely, taking a big step back towards the large, glass paneled shower. A swift flick of his wrist and the water was on, hot within seconds. 

“What about dinner?” Will questioned, his eyes ravenous in their perusal of Hannibal as he quickly disrobed. The enhanced water pressure and big hot water tank worked in tandem, making the room warm and fill steadily with steam. Hannibal kept his mouth shut until all of his clothes were off, the ghost of humidity floating around them – obscuring both their view. 

“I am feasting upon the main course now,” Hannibal replied softly, his eyes roving over Will, even as he climbed into the warm water. The figure he made in the shape of the mist was obscene – his wide shoulders and trim hips were imposing, the rest of his body’s tempting thickness buried in the density of too much fog. 

Hannibal impatiently pulled Will towards him the instant his lover was within reach. Long arms wrapped around him, Hannibal maneuvering them back until they were both under the water. The indulgent price he paid for the shower head showing its worth now – when the thought of separating themselves, even an inch, was blasphemous. 

Their lips tangled wetly for a few long minutes; impatient hands were greedy in their exploration over water slick skin. Will gripped and grabbed until Hannibal had enough of the teasing. Hannibal used his weight to shift their position, Will’s hand shooting to the wall to keep his balance. With that momentum on his side, Hannibal pressed forward, Will’s front plastered against the shower wall, Hannibal on his knees behind him. 

Spreading Will’s cheeks with eager fingers, Hannibal tucked his nose into the intimate space between. He took a long drag of the heady scent; sweat, musk, and an earthy thing that was just Will coated his sinuses, making his mouth water with hunger – as if the girth of his length wasn’t enough of a taste already. Hannibal let himself take in another few breaths, greediness winning out over higher brain function. 

Impatient hips oriented his attention, however – Will pressed back against him, the incessant direction of the movement all the sexier for it. Leading Will into a state of desperation was a daily pilgrimage that Hannibal took seriously. Every occasion was one to be done to perfection. 

In an attempt to appease, Hannibal ran the flat of his tongue from the edge of Will’s ass cheeks and down, down until the twitchy muscle of his hole played across the surface of it. He repeated the gesture once, twice – until Will’s heavy groan had him giving in; his appetite wet from the small sample. Using shaky fingers, Hannibal spread Will open, his hole fluttering against the intrusion. 

Without the usual finesse, the tip of his tongue pressed into the gap, going until muscular resistance stopped him. Only then did he pull out and repeat the motion, a circular lick around the rim offsetting every couple of thrusts. Hannibal’s chest heaved and desperate, almost beastly growls fell from his lips. In no time at all, nothing of the man existed – a predator and his mate and a mandatory shared pleasure the only thing of importance. Will’s noises were answering, primal in their nature; perfectly in tune. 

Hannibal added a finger after a while, the gradual loosening of Will’s muscles inviting more in, talking to him of needs and wants. One switched from two and then three without fanfare, each preparatory step a delicious build up to the main course. With Will’s body reaching a point of total relaxation, his love couldn’t control half of his response – words and noises that only revealed themselves at times like these were what Hannibal lived for. Will Graham in pieces because of him was everything – the end goal, a never-ending gift – everything. 

Several minutes later, Will’s hand reached behind him, the bottle of lube they kept with the shampoo in his grasp “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll finish all over myself before you get the chance.” There wasn’t an ounce of threat in his words – they were simply true and more than enough motivation to kick Hannibal into gear. 

His cock, leaky and sopping, despite being untouched, leaped into his grip. The lube spread easily, Hannibal using the excess in his hand to spread around Will’s entrance. It was relaxed and wet and calling Hannibal’s name with an insatiable impatience. He selfishly stroked himself once, clenching his jaw at the surge of arousal from the simple touch. The power Will had over him – it was like the ghost of a touch, the whisper of it almost better than the reality of it.

Almost. Nothing beat the fluttering clench of Will’s muscle around him, the very tip of his cock nestled against the rim, teasing in its touch. Knowing Hannibal, Will kept completely still, the muscles he could control tight, clenched against the need to move and take. This was Hannibal’s favorite part, Will’s body slowly recognizing him, making room for him – inch by inch. Over the years, each man learned to savor it; their bodies were meant for each other and the act of coming home, no matter who held the driving force – it felt transcendent, right in the way some things just seem to fit. 

“Do it, please – claim me, Hannibal. I want it – want you.” Will’s voice was breathy, barely heard over the loud pulse of water on tile and the harsh draw of useless breaths. He looked over his shoulder, his long curls plastered to his forehead, the stray water droplets on his eyelashes making them look heavy, giving Will’s eyes a smoldering, blissed out quality. 

Wrapping the hand not around his cock around Will’s throat, Hannibal clenched his fingers and let his hips slide forward. Warm heat welcomed him, the tightness easing until they were hip to hip without any resistance at all. He tightened his fingers still, Will’s red face sending a bolt of heat straight to the bubble pool of arousal in his gut. 

“You are mine, you beautiful thing,” Hannibal said, circling his hips until the tip of his cock brushed slowly against Will’s prostate. He pulled back slightly, easing the contact, but not the depth of his length. “It is intoxicating, looking over to see you covered in blood, embracing who you are – who we make ourselves into when we’re together.” Relaxing the grip of his hand around Will’s neck, Hannibal replaced the tension with swift thrusts of his hips. “In all ways you can be, you are mine, Will Graham.” 

The words spurred him on, Will’s total surrender to him and the truths he uttered magnificent, everything Hannibal wanted in life – in a partner; from Will Graham. Both of his hands were around Will’s hips then, Hannibal digging his fingers into the muscle and skin there, grounding them both. His thrusts were measured, his grip pulling Will back against him, the wall bracing them both with every thrust forward. 

As the edge started to near, Hannibal felt his feet slipping out from under him – each hard thrust becoming more and more difficult to deliver. With no traction left in their current position, Hannibal pulled Will up straight, his hand turning Will’s head, their lips meeting in the smallest of kisses brushed across hungry lips. 

“Bedroom,” Hannibal barked out, the tone of his voice deep with raging emotion, testosterone and the heady feeling of excitement overtaking him. He eased the harsh delivery of his words with a soft pull out and a kiss against Will’s cheek, jaw, and neck. “I would rather finish without either of us breaking our neck.” 

There was a second when Will turned in Hannibal’s arms, their noses brushing together. “I love you,” Will whispered with a kiss against swollen lips – the timing of the words delivered for maximum efficiency. When Hannibal was at his weakest, when the lines between entity and man were blurred, Will struck. It was his only little guilty pleasure in their intimate times. Catching Hannibal so off guard. 

Breathlessly, Hannibal kissed Will back, his hands tight around his lover’s biceps – leaving marks in their wake. “And I you,” Hannibal managed to answer back, the very core of him shaken from the intensity of the feeling. The sudden need to be back inside Will was intoxicating, enough for him to slam the water off and drag Will from the shower. He roughly toweled them both down, the grime from their skin coming off on the linen, instead of in the water like it should. The shower was pointless and they were wet, about to make everything else wet, too. Neither cared, though, the simple act of getting water from their skin more for routine’s sake than anything else. 

With a grip still tight around Will’s arm, Hannibal directed them through the bathroom door, a wet trail of water droplets following them with every step. Will put up no fight, neither to the grip or the movement, he willingly followed Hannibal to the bed, then jumped onto it with enthusiasm when Hannibal pushed him towards it. His blue eyes were wide, stalking like a predator. Every one of Hannibal’s moves, Will saw, keeping in his back pocket for a later time, when compliance wasn’t the name of the game. 

Surprising them both, Hannibal didn’t pounce – nor pin Will to the mattress. Instead, he climbed onto the bed closest to the pillows, leaning his back against the headboard. His legs were straight in front of him, one hand sliding down his chest to grab his cock for a couple swift strokes while the other reached for Will, his lover crawling to him without any hesitation. “Take what you want from me,” Hannibal remarked softly, the animalistic feeding done, a slower pace of their coupling now needed. 

Will settled into his lap, his lean thighs bunched up, the muscles striated with every shift and move he made. The curls on his head bounced as he reached over into the bedside drawer, another bottle of lube making an appearance. He was quick to drip a solid stream over Hannibal right from the bottle – the cold of it made up for by Will’s warm hand replacing Hannibal’s around his length. Will gripped him tightly, stroked him twice, then shifted, his tip right against Will’s entrance. 

“Look at me,” Hannibal prompted, giving Will the control of his slide over top of him, the eye-contact an easy compromise. Will’s dark blue eyes were hazy, meeting Hannibal’s maroon ones with an open stare, a well of emotion there that didn’t usually make an appearance. Will didn’t blink as he lowered himself, the point of connection all places in his descent. 

Hannibal was the first to break, throwing his head back in a sharp moan – Will didn’t stop until they were hip to hip, his muscled ass resting delicately on Hannibal’s thighs. Heavy fingers gripped Will’s hips, the contact grounding without the intention of being demanding. This was the way Hannibal took and claimed – the control left his hands and he collected all that Will wanted to give. 

The first roll of Will’s hips was sinful. He kept Hannibal deep, the head of his cock hitting Will’s prostate on the first attempt. There was a swivel, and then a slow move back up Hannibal’s length. As he moved, Will’s thighs flexed and pulled, the grip of them almost as tantalizing as the move of his hips and the tightness of his heat around Hannibal. Everywhere he looked, smelt, touched – Will Graham surrounded him, the swell of it willingly taking him under. 

His hands moved restlessly, gripping Will’s hips, moving up and down his sides, wrapping around trim shoulders in an attempt to keep them close – to press deeper inside. Will accommodated him, leaning into Hannibal’s touch like the positive reinforcement of it was all he’d ever need to keep being good, behaving in a way that caused a touchy sort of desperation. 

Despite the obvious closeness of Will’s orgasm, he kept his pace even keeled. He seemed to delight in the breathless pant a perfectly time clenched around Hannibal pulled from him – Will’s cock dribbled pre-cum with every utterance of the noise, the sweet smell of it plucking at the strings of Hannibal’s control. Will played him beautifully, pushing Hannibal to his utmost limits.

For an instant, Will stopped his movements, placing his hands on Hannibal’s cheeks. They were joined head to toe, Hannibal’s face was pressed into the length of Will’s neck – Will panted beat out breaths into Hannibal’s hair. It was breathless and sweaty, delicate and serene in the fact that absorbing the moment felt more powerful than finishing ever could. Desperate fingers clung to Hannibal’s face, Will’s grip daring him to turn away, to try and break their connection. 

“Please,” Hannibal whimpered, his final act of asking all Will was waiting for. 

Like a match lit, Will went off – his potential energy switching to kinetic in the rise and fall of harsh strokes that spoke of finishing, of a goodness that wouldn’t be paid its respect. Hannibal shouted, his hands gripping where they could. Hannibal’s hips rose on their own accord, the tightness of Will clenching around him an invitation for more – long strokes and accurate hits to a prostate right on the edge of gloriously oversensitive. 

Together, in the way that all things were between them, they brought each other to the end. Will’s thighs worked him up and down while Hannibal contributed the dissonance to a beautiful consonance. Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand to shove his untouched cock into the tight circle of it. Hannibal caught on and gripped him tightly, pumping him twice before a monumental orgasm hit him – the rhythmic tightening and rich notes of Hannibal’s name from his lips brought Hannibal over, too. His release pulsed deep inside of Will, claiming his lover just like he was asked to do. 

Will rode out the tide with jerky rolls of his hips and miniscule shifts up and down – the concept of oversensitivity one that only Hannibal knew in the moment. His skin was sweaty, the water from their shower soaked up into the sheets below them. Will’s hair was crazy, Hannibal’s probably close to that caliber, too. It was dirty and in all the right ways, intimate – beautiful in a way their joining always was.

Hannibal kept Will close while they came down, his nose running over any inch of skin he could find in the position they were in. He scattered kisses in spots, too – any excuse to touch all of Will, he took. A joint sigh of discontent left them when Hannibal slipped out; but he quickly fixed it, pressing his fingers inside Will, instead. The move was fast enough to keep Hannibal’s spend inside, that little piece of ownership living to see another few moments. 

Eager hands gripped his cheek then, pulling Hannibal’s attention back to him, Will’s eyes wide and open, the tenderness foreign enough to take away his breath. He pulled his fingers free, Hannibal suddenly aware of the pressing need to hold Will, to have him as close as possible. He wrapped strong arms around Will’s middle, their chests pressed together – cum and sweat smearing in an innate mark of ownership. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannibal,” Will whispered, a dangerous smirk overtaking his lips. 

His eyes crinkled, his return look his signature smile that existed purely in his eyes; one that, after years of bestowing, belonged to Will. His lover understood the look, happiness in the transcendent way, a full body feeling that while delightful, was private and meant for personal consumption. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Hannibal replied, his eyes shutting with satisfaction. Will’s hands were moving over his cheeks, tracing the fine lines by his eyes and across his forehead. Love looked like this – a surrender of physicality that allowed for a connection on all levels; mind, body, and soul. Their yearly tradition always ended this way, stuck in bed after a perfectly executed kill. The process of bringing someone back to lay across their table foreplay in and of itself. 

Every year, Hannibal snuck away and made his desired recipe, their victim’s heart willingly given and received half the fun of the pesky little holiday and their celebration of it. Will’s enthusiasm always played against him, exhausting him enough for Hannibal to put a dish together. The idea of doing anything but sleeping or fucking in bed was appalling once before. Yet, Hannibal felt a sense of satisfaction, waking Will up to feed him small bites, to kiss and lick away the mess he made and when the food was gone, chase the taste with tongue and teeth. 

For now, he felt content to pull Will close and lay them down, their limbs tangled in the dry spot of the bed. Will rested his head on Hannibal’s chest, his arm wrapping around trim hips. Hannibal kept him close, his long fingers playing over the edge of the scar of Will’s stomach. A content sigh left Will’s lips; the touch welcomed there after years of trying to fully heal from that lifechanging moment. Stubble rubbed against Hannibal’s chest, Will nuzzling his face a typical affectionate gesture, his lover much like the dogs he used to care for so avidly. 

“We made it, anyway,” Will mumbled, the slur of sleep already starting to set in. He tucked himself even tighter against Hannibal, his arm gripping tightly like it did almost every night. The need for closeness was engrained in them, years of denial making it almost a necessity. 

Hannibal shifted and pulled as much of Will that he could to him, half his lover’s body draped over top of him in a show of inelegant, sleepy limbs. He tucked his nose into Will’s hair, taking a long drag of the man’s natural aroma. Like a drug, it relaxed him – Hannibal mere moments from following Will over the edge of rest’s ledge. 

“That we did, sweet Will,” Hannibal finally replied, his eyes drifting shut. 

There was a second of silence, then an uttered “sap” against Hannibal’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, y'all! 
> 
> If you're in one of the states that got smacked in the face with snow and its after effects, I hope you're staying safe & warm! If you're not in one of those places (lucky you), I hope you're staying safe & warm, too <3
> 
> I'm over on tumblr (whispersthroughthechrysalis) - come join me!


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